


a sum of two

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (not with each other though), Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Season/Series 05, they are such fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 11:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16597391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: This is where Coulson allegedly was last seen, in this raggedy little place where you’re not always sure if it’s day or night. All greys look the same here.





	a sum of two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> It's 04:12 am, I can't sleep. Don't even ask.   
> At least I did something productive ;)

It doesn‘t feel that much different at first; it feels like one of those nights from before S.H.I.E.L.D. when she‘d know she‘d be gone before dawn, off to the next colourless town. She didn‘t even come to the bar for a reason, at least not for a reason other than just being tired of waiting for the next day on her own. She wishes she could be gone the next day, just hop into her van and drive until she’d run out of gas, but she’s here on a mission. At least that’s what she keeps telling herself. This is where Coulson allegedly was last seen, in this raggedy little place where you’re not always sure if it’s day or night. All greys look the same here.

She orders a drink, then another one, feels the alcohol get to her pretty soon. It’s okay, she doesn’t plan on doing anything dangerous, and the motel she picked is basically around the corner. And anyway, it’s way past the time of night when she’d still hoped to see Coulson just walk in here, after months, and say hi. Or anything else, not that she cares. She just really wishes she could see him again. Of course, she knows he’s on the run, she knows he had to go into hiding. But with the new government in office, things should get sorted out pretty soon, she thinks. She hopes. Not that the government has ever been trustworthy for her to gamble anything on their decisions, but the election results are a start. Things could change, and that could also mean Coulson could maybe soon get rid of the warrant on his head. 

The guy next to her has been approaching her little by little, obviously interested, and she allows him to buy her another drink. She’s past the point where she feels that it matters how she decides tonight. She starts feeling a little wobbly, but it’s fine, the guy’s got her elbow, and it feels nice. Or at least, she suspects it does. It must, after all this time without friendly touch. That’s what this feeling in her gut must mean. He wants to take her back to his place, but Daisy insists on the motel, it’s closer and it’s familiar grounds. The guy shrugs, lets his hands linger in places Daisy hasn’t been touched in a long time, and it is what she needs, but it still feels a bit wrong. Like she’s letting herself down a little, just not enough to decide otherwise.

Still, she lets him undress her, and it still feels okay, she’s even shaved her legs, things should be fine. And he doesn’t look too bad, either, this is okay. He is careful enough for her to enjoy being touched, being navigated towards the bed, being fondled. It’s fine because it’s familiar enough. He kisses her collarbone, presses himself against her, and it’s still something Daisy knows, it feels a little wrong but tolerable. The guy fumbles for a condom and she feels reassured, okay, she chose a responsible one-night stand. He … proceeds and while she can’t say she’s too focused on what they’re doing, it feels good enough to endure.

Up until he tries to kiss her on the lips. 

She kind of panics, like he just hurt her or something, even though the guy hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary, hasn’t done anything she feels she hasn’t consented to, but this just feels so wrong, it’s _too much_ and she doesn’t even know why. She hastily tries to free herself, pushes him aside, says _nononono_ like she’s sixteen and it’s the first time she’s had to be very vocal about not being comfortable. Poor man, he’s so shocked he almost falls of the bed.

"I’m sorry," she manages. "You didn’t do anything. I just – I can’t. I can’t."  
He freezes for a moment, then swallows.  
"It’s fine." He grabs his pants. "Didn’t mean to spook you." Apologetic.  
"Thanks," she says, because she doesn’t know what to say. This is such an awkward situation, and she almost feels bad, but she’s so grateful that the guy takes his shirt and leaves. It feels like she’s made the first right decision in a while.

*

She decides to stay for a few days, out of pure stubbornness, or maybe nostalgia, they both feel like the same thing to her by now. It feels irrational to linger where Coulson isn’t anymore, hasn’t been in a while, but it also feels like she’s honouring his memory, in a way. Not that he’s dead. _Please no._ No, Coulson is more than capable of taking care of himself. Okay, maybe not in every way, but at least when it comes to undercover intel. He’s going to be fine.

Hanging out at same bar every night feels like the beginning of a tragic story, and she’s not happy that some people have started to give her small nods when she enters or leaves, or that the bartender knows about all her weaknesses when it comes to drinks. She feels a little helpless, still hoping for Coulson to just show up, knowing there’s no way she can reach him anywhere – and even if she could, it would mean putting him in danger. 

Then, on one of the following nights, the bartender turns up the volume on the TV. Finally, some previous political decisions have been overturned. It’s not much, but it makes the country feel a little less like a hellhole and a little bit more like a few democratic decisions could mean something again. She doesn’t connect the dots for another few minutes until she’s heard the better part of the representant’s speech.

Coulson.  
It technically means Coulson can come back some time in the nearer future. If he wants to. It’s been such a long time – maybe he’s tired. Maybe he’s had enough. And he’s said goodbye, after all, he would never have left without saying anything. He doesn’t owe her, and still, it seems such an injustice that she can’t see him. That she can’t speak to him.

Suddenly, the door opens, and for a moment, Daisy expects him to enter the bar, but that would have been too magical, wouldn’t it. Too Hollywood. She can’t help it, she feels like having a good cry. Might also be the drink, what does she know. But it aches too much for her to stay any longer, it’s pressing into her chest, more than the cold night air does as she walks over to the motel.

She doesn’t bother to turn on the lights, only reaches for the small lamp on the nightstand when she notices a pair of shoes next to the bed. They look like Coulson’s. Shocked, she turns on the ugly little lamp, and at the light, she hears some nestling from the balcony. She’s terrified, gets ready to quake intruders, when she sees a familiar face smile at her from outside the balcony window. He’s waving at her, like he’s so excited, and Daisy is so confused, she just drops her bag and keys, and starts to cry. 

He carefully opens the balcony door from outside, hurries inside, murmurs _no_ and _oh Daisy_ , goes to hug her. She’s so confused, doesn’t know what to do with her limbs and her tears and her stuff on the floor, just lets him wrap her arms around her while she cries. He sits them down on the bed, runs his hand through her hair. Daisy stops her tears with a long sigh, almost doesn’t manage to look at him, but there they are, his piercingly blue eyes with the tiny crinkles around them that are always almost smiling, and she thinks she might burst with relief that it’s him, that he’s really here.

"Where the fuck were you?," she whispers, still feeling very small and very overwhelmed.  
He smiles, but there’s some amount of pain in it.  
"I’m sorry," he says. "I’ll tell you everything."  
She nods.  
It takes a while, and at some point, they slip under the covers to stay warm, and Coulson is explaining, with Daisy nodding and looking shocked at all the right moments. She’s pretty sure it’s going to dawn soon, and it feels right. It feels right to have Coulson here, next to her, telling her everything, making it clear that he would never keep any secrets from her. Not from her, never.   
"I missed you something crazy," he admits.  
She feels like crying again, because he doesn’t know the half of it, she’s missed him more than she would ever have thought herself capable, but she suppresses it, grabs his hand instead.  
"I think I missed you more," she tries, adds a small smile.  
He swallows, even more serious than just before.   
"I don’t think that’s possible," he says.

Her eyes dart up to look into his. All of a sudden, everything feels so much more intense, to lie in bed next to Coulson, hands joined together, speaking to each other without any barriers between them, like this is the most natural thing.  
He leans in a little, and she mirrors him very consciously, understanding immediately how much of a risk he’s taking, wanting him to know how serious she, too, is about this.  
They kiss, and Daisy is shaking a little, suddenly all to aware of why she panicked the other night. This – kissing – this is just for Coulson; she has never wanted to imagine herself kiss anyone but him since he left. Or, if she’s being honest, since quite a while. She’s had sufficient encounters, but now that she thinks about it, she’s never kissed anyone on the lips.

Coulson stops, looks at her like she could send him to hell and back with just one word, like she could pass judgement on him and he would go without protest. He looks terrified, but there’s something else in his eyes she suddenly recognizes from before – from years before! – and it’s such a relief to now know what it probably means. She tries to reflect it as she smiles at him, cups his cheek in her hand. All of this seems so beyond words, but Daisy thinks of one.  
"Yes," she says, and his smile seems the most brilliant thing she’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! ♥


End file.
